


they took the crown (but it's alright)

by florgi



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Multi, Shanghai Rolex Masters 2017, a shameless amount of fluff, basically roger and rafa comforting delpo, lots of cuddling now that i think of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florgi/pseuds/florgi
Summary: “Should I remind you that you are playing a final tomorrow?” Juan said softly, lips close to Rafa’s ear. Then he looked up and smiled sweetly at Roger, making his heart jump and swell on his chest. “Both of you, in fact.”OR: A cuddle party after Roger beats Juan Martín on the Shanghai Masters' semifinals.





	they took the crown (but it's alright)

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the existence of this fic solely on Juan Martín del Potro and all the feelings he gave me since the US Open. Also, if I love Fedal enough to write about them is because of Sarah, so I blame her a little too. I should probably feel ashamed for writing such a big piece of pure fluff but, honestly, I had lots of fun writing it so yeah, sue me hahaha
> 
> Obviously, except from the actual tournament, nothing of this happened and I don't know anyone mentioned here personally.
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift's "Call it what you want"

Seve gave Roger a knowing look when the Swiss told his team he would meet them at the press room.

“I just want to take a quick shower,” he offered with a sheepish smile that wasn’t fooling anyone.

However, it was effective enough to let Roger get away with his poor excuse. Soon he was walking as fast as he could without calling anyone’s attention. His rush had little to do with actually wanting to have a shower and a whole lot with catching Juan Martín before he had ran from the building and even the country.

Roger tried to compose his face, hiding his relief when he entered the changing room and heard soft spoken Spanish. Sebastián was talking with Juan Martín in a soothing but determined tone, as if they were already analysing the pros and cons of his performance. Roger greeted them briefly and made his way to the showers, mostly because he had noticed Juan was wearing only a towel around his waist and he didn’t fancy making a fool of himself in front of the Argentine’s coach.

He stayed under the warm water just long enough to convince anyone that he’d actually taken a shower and then dressed up quickly, suddenly fearing Juan Martín had made his way out while he was trying to maintain his charade. Roger felt his racing heart jumping and calming down when he found Juan still putting away clothes and rackets on his bags. Sebastián was nowhere to be seen and Roger thanked his good star for it.

Roger walked to Juan and placed a warm hand over his shoulder. The Argentine turned around slowly, his tired-looking eyes observing him like they didn’t know each other. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

“Thought you were already with the press.”

“I wanted to see you before…” Roger wasn’t quite sure how he wanted to continue that sentence. He squeezed Juan’s arm instead and smiled sweetly at him when he opened his eyes. “That was a gr…”

“Roger, please not now.”

The slightly annoyed tone surprised the Swiss, who immediately removed his hand and looked at Juan with worried eyes.  He opened his mouth a few times looking for something to say but words failed him. Juan shook his head and closed the space between them, placing a hand on Roger’s shoulder.

“Just let me be alone. Don’t want to shout at you.” Roger couldn’t help frowning a little and that gesture elicited a little smile from Juan Martín, the Swiss felt somehow a little better at the sight of it. “Not mad at you, just at myself. Could have play better.”

Roger was about to argue with him but then they locked their eyes and he knew Juan needed time for himself. He understood the feeling perfectly. Roger lifted a hand slowly towards Juan Martín’s face, waiting for a signal that he should stop. As there was no opposition from the Argentine, Roger placed a tender hand on one cheek and kissed the other briefly. He knew he shouldn’t ask Juan to see him later, but Roger still hoped his eyes transmitted exactly that message.

 

No amount of talking could ever convince Roger that staying at different hotels was a good idea; especially when he was the one singled out. He cursed under his breath when a new group of very obvious tennis fans neared him and he made a quick way to the opposite sidewalk while keeping his head low.

The usual backdoor was waiting him in the shadows when he reached the hotel. He moved quickly up the stairs and elevators to the right floor and looked a few times over his shoulders while walking to their room. Roger always marvelled at the thrill of excitement that ran throw his body every time he was about to open the door to a room that wasn’t _his._ The satisfaction of watching the door quietly giving in would never fade away.

Roger entered the room slowly, watching his steps mindful of the probably sleeping men in the room. But once he reached the living area, he was surprised by the soft murmur of a conversation in Spanish. He walked a few more steps so he was able to see Rafa sitting on the couch with Juan Martín’s head on his lap, a hand carefully caressing the Argentine’s short hair and the other tenderly holding his left wrist. Roger didn’t feel like interrupting them. He enjoyed getting himself lost in the warm, homely atmosphere, the incomprehensible Spanish words filling the otherwise silent room.

It didn’t take long before Rafael noticed him leaning against the wall.

“Rogi!”

His eyes sparkled like he was just offered the most precious gift in the world and Roger could feel his heart swelling with love for the Spaniard. He walked quickly to the sofa and took a sit next to Juan Martín, his hand reflexively falling over Juan’s knees. The Argentine didn’t open his eyes. He looked relaxed and comfortable, a stark contrast to the state he’d been in when Roger left him hours ago. His eyes wandered to Rafa’s hand carefully caressing Juan’s wrist with his thumb. Something twisted inside Roger’s guts and he swallowed hard before speaking as softly as he could:

“How’s the wrist?”

His words echoed in the almost silent room. Juan Martín finally opened his eyes and he looked like he was about to speak when Rafa started explaining instead:

“Nothing serious. Is not hurting more than yesterday, no? Doctor say it will be fine for Estocolmo,” he finished his short explanation with a big smile to Juan Martín that he replied easily.

Juan removed himself from Rafa’s lap and sat properly between the two of them. He stretched his long arms to the ceiling, exposing some of the smooth skin below his shirt. Roger couldn’t quite stop himself from eyeing him somewhat hungrily. When he met Juan’s eyes again he was surprised with a little smile and a wink. Blood ran freely to Roger’s face and he was certain he made a much entertaining view, if Rafa’s loud laughter and Juan shy chuckles were any reliable indication of it.

“Shut it, you two.”

 Juan leaned forward and carelessly placed a quick kiss to Roger’s cheek, effectively turning him a shade redder. Rafa was still laughing under his breath and Roger threw what he hoped was a threatening look at him. The Spaniard only chuckled again and then grabbed Juan Martín by the waist and brought him closer to his own body.

“Rafa…”

“Shh, no complaining. I want to cuddle.” As to make a point, Rafa squeezed his arms tighter around Juan’s waist and placed a series of tender kisses on the back and side of his neck. Roger bit back a laugh at the sight of Juan Martín giving up any intention of protesting against Rafa’s ministrations.

“Is not necessary, that’s all. I’m fine.”

“ _Lo hago porque quiero, amor._ ”

Roger felt his own heart beating faster having understood the few loving words. He smiled at Rafa and got a bright smile back. It was ridiculous, really, to still feel the butterflies after such a long time.

Roger reached for Juan’s legs and pulled them to his own lap, settling one hand on his ankles and gently tracing circles on the soft skin with his thumb. The Argentine had apparently decided to nap against Rafa’s chest, eyes closed and guards completely down.  Rafa had fixed his attention on the TV that Roger had never noticed was on, placing soft kisses to Juan’s hair once in a while. The Swiss took advantage of the moment to appreciate the sight of his lovers together. He loved to observe them and marvel at the fact that such wonderful people had decided to call him theirs.

“Roger?”

Rafa was looking at him with wide expecting eyes that made him look years younger. Roger could only smile in apologise because he had no idea what he was being asked about.

“He wasn’t listening what we were saying, right Roger?” Juan’s eyes glistened with amusement, a tired smile playing on his lips.

The Swiss took a second to admire the way his name sounded in both his lovers’ lips. The hissing sound, so characteristic of Juan’s speech, when he pronounced the “G”, and the softer and rounder vowels that Rafa used. He shook his head slightly and smiled a little wider.

“We want to know if you had dinner already.”

“Yeah, I got something with the team.”

“Sure you don’t want something?”

Roger threw a knowing look at Juan Martín; he smiled back at him and rolled his eyes. Rafa was usually overly-concerned with Roger’s diet even though the Swiss didn’t quite know why. Juan and him had just accepted it as part of Rafa’s nature, since he was also overly-protective about the Argentine’s writs and health in general. Roger chuckled at the worried crinkles already forming on Rafa’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Raf. Don’t worry.”

The Spaniard nodded, letting the topic go for the time being and focused his attention back on the TV. Roger sighed in contentment, sinking a little bit more on the sofa and closing his eyes. He thought he was about to fall asleep like that when Juan Martín suddenly stood up stretching once again his long limbs, this time together with a big yawn.

“I think we should go to sleep.”

“Ugh, why?” Rafa threw himself over Roger’s lap in protest, burying his face on his legs.

Roger and Juan Martín laughed at his antics and shared a fond look over the Spaniard’s head. Roger cradled his hand through Rafa’s hair almost out of instinct.  Juan kneeled in front of them and placed a soft kiss on top of Rafa’s head.

“Should I remind you that you are playing a final tomorrow?” he said softly, lips close to Rafa’s ear. Then he looked up and smiled sweetly at Roger, making his heart jump and swell on his chest. “Both of you, in fact.”

Rafa muttered something that neither could understand, causing the laughter of both men.

“You’ll have to sit up so we can listen, baby.”

“He’s right, Raf.” Juan looked mostly amused; he had sat on the floor and was looking at them with a soft expression that was risking melting Roger’s heart.

After a bit, Rafa did sit up and looked at Roger with pleading eyes:

“Can you stay to sleep?”

Roger toyed with the idea of telling them he couldn’t. Somewhere in the back of his mind the voice of his physio was reminding him he needed proper rest before the final. One look back to Rafa and Juan was enough to throw all that away. Juan Martín rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his knees. He placed both hands over Roger’s knees and leaned closer with a playful smirk on his lips.

“Is just sleeping, Rog,” he threw a look at Rafa and chuckled a little. “Promise we’re not sabotaging you.”

They laughed honestly at that and Roger had to shake his head in amusement. He pecked Juan’s lips lightly and finally spoke:

“Yes, of course. I’ll just text my team, I guess.”

“Amazing!” With a big kiss on Roger’s cheek, Rafa was immediately on his way to the bathroom.

Roger watched how Juan Martín followed the Spaniard’s movements until he was out of sight. Their eyes met and they shared a little laugh.

“How does he have so much energy?”

“No idea, to be honest.”

Roger started to get rid of his clothes as Juan Martín did the same. The Argentine’s clothes were left in a small pile next to the desk, they looked like a mess compared to Roger’s folded clothes on the coffee table, but infinitely more organized than Rafa’s things that were just _everywhere._ Roger watched Juan palming Rafa’s ass on his way to the bathroom.

“Hey!” The Spaniard was laughing when he reached Roger and offered him a grey cotton shirt that had _Nike_ ’s logo in it. “Thought you always want a pyjama,” he added with a sweet smile.

“Reading my mind now, hm?” Roger took the piece of clothing and put it on in one swift motion. When he looked back at Rafa he found a little pout on his lips.

“Why you have to wear a shirt always?” He closed the space between them, sneaking one hand under the soft fabric and resting in on Roger’s waist. He pulled Roger just a little bit closer, their noses bumping with each other with every movement. “I wish you don’t.”

The kiss started soft and tender, but soon Roger found Rafa’s pliant mouth opening for him and it was inevitable to deepened it, losing his hands in Rafa’s hair and angling his body enough to fit perfectly against him. It was one of those kisses that could have lasted forever, until Juan Martín came out of the bathroom and interrupted them with his laughter.

“How rude, not waiting for me.” He was obviously not bothered at all. As a proof of it, he enveloped Rafa’s body with his arms and kissed his neck a few times, drawing some ticklish giggles from the Spaniard. “I was the one supposed to be taken care of tonight.” He smirked and Roger rolled his eyes, Rafa was shaking his head a little too.

Roger stood on his top toes so he could reach Juan’s lips over Rafa’s shoulder and then added:

“But you don’t like that, love.”

“But I like you two.”

They all started laughing like the stupidly-in-love people they were before Juan detached himself from Rafa and took Roger’s hand in his. He showed him the bathroom with the other hand and told him there were a few spare tooth brushes for him.

“And I see Rafa already got you a shirt…”

“ _Lamentablemente,”_ added Rafa with a big exaggerated sigh, already making his way to the bed.

“Go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.” Roger kissed Juan Martín’s jaw and gently pushed him in the general direction of the bed before heading to the bathroom.

When Roger made his way back to the bed, he found Rafa curled around Juan Martín as if they were not sharing a bed with room for at least four people. Juan was focused on his phone, the bright glow of the screen highlighting his features in the dimly lit room. The right side of the bed was open as an invitation that Roger could never refuse.

Juan smiled at him while Roger climbed to the bed, and then made a gesture with his eyes trying to point at Rafa.

“Already asleep, can you believe?” They laughed as quietly as they could. Rafa was constantly bursting with energy, but as soon as his head touched a pillow he was gone.

Roger turned off the lights from the night table and then pushed himself close to Juan Martín. He frowned a little and touched the top of the phone that was still on the Argentine’s hands.

“This thing won’t let you sleep anytime soon, you know?”

Juan rolled his eyes but stretched his arm over Roger to leave the device on the little table, kissing Roger briefly on the lips before getting himself comfortable against Rafa once again.

“Happy?”

“Quite.”

Roger stole one more kiss before turning around and burying himself in Juan’s warm embrace as much as possible. He placed his own hands above Juan’s grabbing the soft fabric of his jersey, and felt the soft kisses being pressed to the back of his neck. Roger couldn’t help sighing. He could perfectly listen to Rafa’s slow breathing and feel Juan’s calm heartbeat against his back. He felt warm and loved and possibly the happiest he’s ever been outside of a tennis court.

Roger found himself wishing Sunday, the final, the tour and the rest of the world would never come to look for them so he could cuddle with Juan and Rafa forever.


End file.
